


Twenty-four hours

by Nimuesdream



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2421506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimuesdream/pseuds/Nimuesdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight twist on the Vegas trope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty-four hours

His lips lingered on the back of her neck as she fumbled for her glasses.

"Felicity –"

"The flight."

He'd been given – they'd been given – just 24 hours. Just long enough for him to seize her hand and drag her to the airport for the four hour flight to Vegas. Just long enough for them to present their IDs, get a license, and stand in one of the tackiest wedding chapels he'd ever seen. Just long enough to say their vows. He hadn't hesitated – he'd had the right words in mind for months – but to his surprise, she hadn't either, though she'd started crying when she said the word, "hero." 

He'd almost stopped the ceremony right then to kiss her, but she gave him a look, and finished her vows, and then they were married, with another eight hours to spare before they had to get on the plane back to the Starling City Airport.

She'd protested the whole thing, of course, reminding him of their one and only disastrous date, of the way that he'd told her that she was a distraction to his Arrow work, that he'd had to choose, and he was choosing the Arrow. Of how he had repeated this again near Christmas, and he was just lucky that she didn't have all of the usual Christmas baggage to go along with that, and then again near Valentine's Day where he'd actually tried to set her up with Ray again to "make her happy," which had hurt, damn it, and what was this, setting her up with his business rival on Valentine's Day and then asking for a Vegas wedding in May?

"I'm not asking," he said.

"Oliver –"

"If this goes south and I can't come back – immediately come back," he added quickly after seeing the panic in her eyes; damn it, he loved her, but her fears of abandonment could be a real issue at times, like now – "Felicity, Thea's still my next of kin. My legal heir."

"So? Call Laurel and –"

"Laurel's excellent, but she's a prosecutor. Corporate and trust law? Not her thing. She was the one to point this out." He had Felicity's hands in a death grip. "Felicity. If Laurel and the rest of my attorneys can't stop her, or even delay her, Thea will have access to everything in Applied Sciences. Everything. Everything Ray created."

Felicity hadn't bothered to wipe the tear rolling down her face. "So we call Barry and –"

"Last I checked, Barry was fast. Not strong. Sure, he'd be able to get all of the smaller stuff Ray was so obsessed with out of there. But the rest of it? It would take too long, even if it could be done, and we couldn't conceal it."

"Then why not use Laurel –"

"Because it's better to have my wife and and her attorney. Besides which, Laurel's in a good place right now. A strong place. I can't ask her to destroy what she's got with Ted just to enter a fake marriage with me because I was an idiot."

That hadn't helped.

"Felicity," he'd said, cupping her face in his hands, "I promise. We'll discuss how unfake this is the second I'm back."

"Because I'll be so much less of a distraction then."

"Probably not."

That definitely hadn't helped.

"There has to be another way."

"There isn't."

And then his lips had been on hers, hard and quick.

When he'd pulled away, she hadn't let go of his hand.

He reached over to grab that hand now – the hand that now wore his ring. A quick, cheap thing they'd picked up in Vegas; high on the list of things to do later was find a decent ring. But she'd just given him a look when he'd automatically turned to the more expensive rings, and that wasn't something he wanted to argue about. 

Not now.

Not when they only had 24 hours. Nine hours, now.

She'd hesitated when he brought her to a hotel room. "This is just for a nap, right? I mean, I thought this was fake. Like that other time, except maybe with fewer webcams since this is for a different reason, but –"

"You're not the only one who's been obsessing over that kiss."

"Don't you dare remind me of that right now."

"Felicity –"

"Do you have any idea what that was like? The constant flashbacks to that kiss at the worst possible times for months and –" 

He hadn't had to ask which kiss. There'd been more than one, granted – she was too damn beautiful for their own good – but for both of them, that had been the one. The other, briefer kisses – those had just been reassurances. Comforting moments.

Slips.

"A bit," he'd said, opening the door and pulling her in. "At least you weren't trying to shoot a bow at those moments."

"And now you want to make it worse, make me remem—"

Fifteen hours until he had to leave. "I just want you."

Seven hours. Seven amazing hours.

And now, she was reaching for her glasses. 

"No," he told her, reaching his hand to grab hers and pull it away from the nightstand. "We've got time."

"Oliver. We don't. There's getting a cab, and getting to the airport, and getting through the airport, and did you see the number of tourists and –"

"We've got time," he repeated, moving their hands downwards towards her center. "Though if you want to put your glasses back on for this, that'd be pretty hot."

"Oliver –"

"One more time," he said, sliding easily into her again. "One more –"

"Not just one more," she snapped. Her fingers dug into his hand. "If you think this is the last time we are doing this, Oliver Queen, then you – oh, god."

It wasn't his imagination. It was better, every time. And god, she was amazing.

He'd wanted to survive before. Now, he had to.

It was over way too quickly. Then again, that was their fifth round; even he had only so much stamina. She sighed as he pulled out. 

"Oliver –"

"I know," he said, putting his forehead against hers. 

They almost missed the flight. Almost missed the 24 hour timeline. Definitely had bruises on their hands from slightly too hard handholding. Almost missed another argument from Diggle and Roy that Oliver shouldn't do this, and especially shouldn't do this as mere Oliver Queen, without his mask and hood. Without his arrows.

"Oliver. It's suicide," Diggle repeated again. 

"Oh, he's coming back," Felicity said. "He owes me."

It was true. He took a deep breath. "Felicity, I can never – never – repay –"

"Oh, not that." She pushed a finger into his chest. "You owe me a kiss. A proper kiss."

He bent towards her.

"With the hood on. The entire costume." After everything they'd just done, she shouldn't have been able to blush in front of him. "I – I liked thinking about that."

They don't have time. He bends to her anyway for one final kiss, one final taste. He doesn't look back. He doesn't dare to look back. The ring on his finger feels unbelievably heavy.

But when he does return months later, knocking at her window at 2 in the morning, he makes sure that he's wearing the hood. And that this time, they have more than 24 hours.


End file.
